A Native American View of Death

I give you this one thought to keep...

I am with you still, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow, 
I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not think of me as gone --
I am with you still, in each new dawn.