Ghosts, spirits, and souls are online 

Do we all have limbs to make the net happen? 

Heaven and hell, at their heels and flight, saving the line 

Each sweet and sour is their shelter so divine 

Deep in desires to define or decline

Classic seasons of passion and fashion like satin.

 

Ghosts, spirits, and souls, fallen or falling from heaven 

For prices and precepts

Suddenly, up for seasons hidden

Each section closes up with given versions of the garden 

Globes of golden sessions cushion each fraction 

Legions contain fortune for bargains behind every curtain.

 

Ghosts, spirits, and souls arrive with passions 

Breathing earth grows on raising fantasy 

Raising lust in options, each portion thrones for light and provisions

Each region, taken by tensions of transitions 

Buttons of concern, conversion, and abstraction in their extensions 

Sounds of grail greatness and gore depths summon processions.

 

Ghosts, spirits, and souls lay on cushions of posts

They come to take or give sweet positions for birds and Lords

With chords of genders stirred as wards among herds to hosts

Each corner of the net may be a number of the three in the toast

Time boasts, Seasons vote their volts 

Each day, unnumbered visits to ripple notes.

 

Ghosts, spirits, and souls ask for rights from human laws

Everything toppling to rise or fall again 

Down to the ground to group grooms and brides as in-laws

Each eye will see awe in sweet draws 

Every child will speak of them, finer than human friends with flaws

Spouses may be chosen, even in endless sexual choices for straws.