Occupy Jehovah's Hurricane

In my ill born dark corner of the world I wake, and the old pests retreat from my skin.  Emma Gerber is nowhere to be seen.  I can only find vacant traces of her in the room as if she were lifted into some confine beyond the eyes of God.  If he is or sees.  For sometimes it seems that his sight is blind.  Perhaps he sees even now in the eye of the storm overhead looking down into a single hole of peace amidst hundreds of miles of tempest.  Hundreds of years of tempests.  I hear a knock on the door.  It has a rustic sound that seems distant and faraway as if the storm outside would soon sweep it away.  I step down the old stairs that breathe sighs of old wisdom in their quiet dilapidation.  I open the door, and I see a man and a woman.  They look afraid.  Not at first, but if you pause to gaze upon them you can see an old tacit fear that rips through their hearts in the prison of their minds.
"Can I help You?" I ask.  The woman twists her hands together nervously.  They look surprised my accent is somewhat of a delicacy in these parts.
"We would like to as you if you've accepted god into your life?" I laugh mirthlessly for a moment and build their perplexity.  It is an old skill I used once long ago when asking questions of a darker nature.
"The real question is has he accepted me?  From the life that I've led I'm far beyond his grace, and hope for my salvation is a useless pipe dream."  They look at me stunned.  They have finally found a man so decrepit and abandoned someone more worthy of their words than most that they talk too, and they cannot wait to walk away.  They hand me a pamphlet then scurry down the steps, and walk away.  Across the street I see a man feeling his way along the walls.  Muttering too himself old lines from old plays his feet look swollen he has no shoes, but it seems that fate has cursed him thus.  I walk to the opposite end of my home, and gaze across at the field where members of the OCCUPY movement have taken up residence.  I have watched them one tent is empty perhaps someone will occupy it soon.  I know that I will not.  I have heard word of infection on the streets.  I may be a morose man but I yet value my life.  I will stay inside once more, and hide from the absurdity abound.