kismet

A strange sound in the village, not an alarm
It went on in short intervals
Perhaps they were tasting something we
We were not a part of.
After some time, the sound went on me
Nerves it frightened me it was
The doom-laden telling of times to come when
Our world is aflame and hurtles through space
And all gold melts.
Ashes to ashes that is the way it goes