Intention

It's time alone that rots and breaks all things
And dissipates all loves, relationships
Into mere piles of  memory which brings
On loneliness in cool entropic drips.

To simply keep things as they are you must
Maintain and pay attention, add the oil
To joints and surfaces and be a trust
To realize mere sameness in your toil.

But if you are to make things grow in health
And beauty, you need more than maintenance--
You need to feed your love with growing wealth,
Your actions need to always make, enhance.

Indifferent aimless boredom makes you die--
Your love, intention, beauty multiply.