Friable, fungible

[Bar22do]

a three-storied poem


Avowal
I feel that my (rather) solid heart,
for but one beat, might become
friable,
were You to hear it for real -

Hope
If my Love were
fungible,
like gold, sex or wheat,
what would you barter it for ?
For – yours, I dare to think, and
not for more Time instead
or for some other Worth -

Volatility
High above the atlas tight maps
we wheel within an ace of touch,
bemused,
‘red dwarfs’ lost in such fortune’s skies,
and we are lost to each other, too,
but for agog poetic space, Nonesuch.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Remarkable as I found the whole of this, I was especially struck by:



High above the atlas tight maps
we wheel within an ace of touch,

[hack]

It is wonderful Bar,
You continue to amaze.
Thank you, my friend.
Hack

[Bar22do]

Hack and Prince, there is a fourth story to this poem, but which my words could not tell, drowned in too high a tide, or - in nothingness...?
I thank you for your comments and for reading.