The music reached us. Clumsily, stumbling over our own roots, rustling our leaves in answer, we moved, we followed. - Denise Levertov

One can anyway only be shown something one knows already, needs already. Showing anyone anything really amounts to removing the last thin film that prevents their seeing what they are looking at.

Delivered out of raw continual pain,
smell of darkness, groans of those others
to whom he was chained — unchained, and led
past the sleepers,
door after door silently opening — out!

I moonbathed diligently, as others sunbathe.