In the middle of the mayhem a guiding light was seen, flying forward in a dream state a state of mind of grimy rhymes whining tires on the highway of hard knocks--did you look inside my box? Pandora asks you at midnight right before you become at one with the darkness, a meadow lark in rapture singing in the pews, raising wise daughters and sons, lifting voices up through danger to the highest cracks in the ceiling.