Circle of the angels

Sometimes I stop to wonder
who'll die before,
whether the wind or the sun
the sea or the rain,
the fire of God...
My nerves, under pressure.
I keep silence while a new zoo
begins to move once again,
absent-minded, incoherent,
loose and ignorant, as is its custom.
Perhaps nobody has noticed me
but one day more is so hard to bear
and in the dark they still can perceive all
they might report every thing they saw.
But their lips shall stop
and their spit keeps on shining
along with the stars.
Streets now empty have lost their breath,
memories are far-off
and the few folk remained
don't mind about that,
as if a cloud would haze
the whole horizon.
Another dream, silently...
it's only another dream