But do we have the rights,

To not believe in ghosts,

To not believe,

That those who passed are somehow here?

Do we have the rights

To tell those with close ones gone

That their only hope of connection

Is only an outlandish thought?

But then, too, do we have the rights

To tell those looking up at the stars

That those quiet, distant sparks of light

Are, in their quiet, distant way, looking back at them?