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Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there, 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's rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush

of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there, I did not die...

Not mine, but I love it. By Margarette Weiss and Tracy Hickman



Always before the spring returned

The bright world in it's cycle spun

In air and flower, grass and fern

Assured and cradeled by the sun



Always beore you could explain

The turning darkness of the earth

And how that dark embraced the rain

And gave the ferns and flowers birth



Already I forget those things

And how a vein of gold survives

The mining of a thousand springs

The season of a thousand lives



Now winter is my memory

Now Autumn now thesummers light

So every spring from now will be

Another season into night

She sits upon her throne of wood

running finger tips through golden hair

the radient beauty of her face

so innocent and so fair



He sits upon his throne of sand

his dirty hand grip his weapon tight

he rubs his scarred and beaten face

and wonders if he will die tonight



So far from home is the Warrior

and from the Maiden farther still

but yet one fatefull night they meet

and set the Warriors heart to thrill



And each day after that they spoke

across miles and oceans too

until she spoke the words he longed to hear

"My Warrior, I love you"



Oh his days were joyus then

they lived and laughed and loved

and soon they would be together at last

to thank the stars above



And yet in time there comes a day

amidst plots to bring him scorn

that fair Maiden answers not his call

oh how his heart does mourn



The Warrior returns to his home

from a land of war and bloody hues

he drinks and drinks just to forget

he has nothing left to loose



He lays with women he only just met

simply looking for a pretty face

but all the drink and all the girls

could never take fair Maidens place



So he turned his weapon upon himself

hoping to end the sorrow and pain

but a voice carried to him upon the wind

"My Warrior, rise again"



"There is still innocence in this world

and that you must still defend

I will be beside you, my heart is yours

from now until the end"



And so our brave Warrior

With brand new hope and mended heart

became the champion of the Wind

their love never to be torn apart.