For all practical purposes, you’re right. But poetry isn’t practical, so I have to point out that the exactness we get from numbers is illusory. One plus one is two, right? But what if they reproduce? I don’t believe in objectivity. I can imagine the “constant” of gravity changing, though we’ve never measured it accurately enough to detect any change. Length can be constrained (1 inch, plus or minus 3 1/1000ths of an inch), but it can’t be exact (the edge of a physical object, at a high enough magnification, is comfy, or soft, if you will, so you can’t place it, exactly).
I have yet to disabuse you of Plato’s error. There is no comfy, except for… what did you call it? “an amalgamation of subjective viewpoints on a qualitative state and as such, would be subject to change over time (as connotations evolve) as well as the difficulties of translation I mentioned. The answer may vary wildly depending on the culture of the person being asked, their personal opinion on what comfy is, and what word you used to substitute “comfy” based on their regional word associations.”
La-Z-Boy won’t care what academics and language philosophers think of their chairs’ comfiness. And I bet that few publishers would really care how poetic your poetry was if it delighted your readers. We are ALL about the amalgamation of subjective viewpoints. Everything else (by definition, as far as I’m concerned) is meaningless. Literally. Amalgamating subjective viewpoints is the defining characteristic, to me, of meaning.