The Whole ...

As he struggled to sate and stamp out the hate,
You recused from his inner debate;
He'd learnt of virtue, could only act out the vice,
Besotted, he'd resorted to a game of dice.
Then, in the end, you begrudged him an epiphany,
A vista of his sins - a dire litany.
He lay dying, in more than mortal pain,
Praying, now, to join the scores already slain,
Privy as he was to his rancor against his own,
Burning, knowing that he'd no means to atone.
Yes, you are the protector, the paragon of good,
Yet, you indulged evil as only you could;
Although shrouded in ignorance, he had been,
Vengeance, or whatever drove you, too, was unseen;
What cordon could you, the omnipotent, not breach?
To the omniscient, was his conscience out of reach?
Why delay his salvage till sins encumbered his soul,
Do the good and the evil, together, make you whole?