Weep Not For Me, I am a Marine
Do not stand at my grave weeping, I am not there; I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds drifting gently over the land; I am God's diamond, a light glistening through the sky's, His snow crystal riding winds, caring not where He takes me. I am happy to flow through endless beauty; I rise, I soar, I change, gently, I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the seasons that call to the earth, becoming the gentle autumn rain caressing land. As you awaken to dawn's hush, I am the swift, uplifting warmth of the morning breeze.
At night, I am the stars that shine; I was old yet, you see me, able to run once again as I shoot through the night sky. I am the splendor of the harvest moon; do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there. My spirit soars on the wind; I did not die the way you think...
Because...
All Marines die in the red flash of battle or the cold loneliness of a nursing home; their bodies broken, aged because of war. In the vigor of youth or the infirmity of years all eventually cross over but our Marine Corps lives on. Every Marine who ever existed is living still through our young Marines who claim our title today.
It is that sense of brotherhood, which outlives our mortality. It is belonging to our Marine Corps that gives us light to live by, our honor to uphold, traditions to pass on, our warrior code to give the new generations of Marines...
Through God, all things are possible...
