Poem: Now, what?

Well, Universe?
What have you now
in mind
for me?
My house was burned down,
but why?
Was it too distactful to me.
did it make me too slothfull?
Was it just an accident,
the moral: Be careful with candles?
What foul being did I offend,
by words or by actions,
to bring down such wrath
upon me?

Yet i am unharmed.
Myself complete.
I imagined staying in that house for years.
I loved it
and gave thanks for it
almost every night
I lay in bed there.
Never expected to have a place like that.
Nor the place I'm in now,
for that matter.
Bad imagination or creative universe.
Either way it speaks volumes for
the originality of life.
And I suppose I could infer,
that the future will most probably be
just as unpredictable,
original,
surprising,
unique,
and maybe, just maybe,
as enjoyable and comfortable,
as that shack was.
My shack.
Half-built, painted, and colauged,
by me.
My shack on the bay.
That burned to the ground.
Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.
It's the first time fire
has touched me directly.

When I was 18
a girl stole our apartment
with all my things in it.
Later it burned in a freak accident.

When I was 20
Mother sold our house
which I was born and raised in
and always promised to me.
Later it burned in a freak accident.

Now when I'm 29,
homeless and living in a wooden shack
it burned in a freak accident.

Maybe it's the Sky-Father calling.
Calling to tell me
his son deserves better
and it will all be better soon.

It certainly seems that
Fire
is usually on my side...