Obscurity (loop and deliverance) is our home: Notes on "We Don't Live Here Anymore."

The author's understanding of love is not only wrong, but also right (correct).
Do we make (produce) secret stories only to have them to tell like seamen?
This is certainly not a rhetorical question, on a drunken boat,
Till we cannot see beyond the breaking of waves.

For example:

"I can no more, bathed in your langours, O waves,
Sail in the wake of the carriers of cottons,
Nor undergo the pride of the flags and pennants,
Nor pull past the horrible eyes of the hulks." (The Drunken Boat)

or

"Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns :
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns." (The Rime of the Ancient Mariner)