Sonnet #414

The devil cannot be the devil all the time

How can anyone sustain a hate without 

a little sweetness in the kindling, without

A little cozy moment with the fire, a time

For the knife to clean before it stabs 

And twists and all the guns must oil

And wash away the hint of rust and toil

Like this is always homely, optimistic

Though the tools will hurt there is a joy

For devils in laying traps, antagonistic

Moments are precise, there must be toys

To practice with, there is a ritualistic

Pleasure in the work of anything, even evil

Do not confuse who is good with who is gleeful