Convulsing the Wilderness

I read that in the Most Important Book and it causes a movie in my head.  "He convulses the wilderness...by His voice?"  I walk in His world this morning, as close to wilderness as I can get with the money and time that I have.  I walk along the path already worn for me and a leaf swirls by me, and another, and then another.  Death is coming soon, I think, and realize how morbid that sounds.  But I know what I mean. While I gather white pumpkins because I think they're especially beautiful and don't get paid much attention to next to their orange friends, that soul wilderness always nags at me.  Hayrides and corn mazes can't shake it out of me.  Time is passing, has passed, I want to whisper to the person next to me.  But I'm afraid I'll scare them, defeat them.  It's not what I really want to say.

I want to bring my wilderness home to Him, the lover of all my nagging thoughts and stolen joy and everything that never seems to last.  I want Him to make sense of busy that sometimes feels empty.  I want Him to wreck my self created peace; to rock my ideas of what I think everything means and bring me to the knees of my self.  I want His voice to boom deep over me.  I want His voice to convulse my world.