Heaven's eye trawls history's wall to find ghostly kings who patrol cathedral halls, holy elegies enthral. The inquiring bells bind threads missing from Canterbury's tapestry. Sun passes through miracle windows, discrete saints seek seers among the tourist multitude. Cathedral forms attract heaven's eye to forever haunt saints governed by glass. Fading voices fall away from Christmas mass. Moonlight tempts Anselm to trespass, miracles are tested, passed, waiting for prayer. The morning sun gloves moonlight's palm, dreams arm elusive architects who are designing a staircase without end as I walk through Canterbury, the churches within are built anew.