ochlocracy

Cut from the rock yet flowing like milk
With eyes that could see the wind
He stood in contrast to the mob
The mob, before like fury, could not pass

The clock in the tower on the church on the square
Set itself to strike. Potential reined.
The pigeons on the ledge cooed and sighed
Expecting sleep not thunder

Like time itself the pause unfurled
A noxious rising tide
When awareness of the bells hit home
Deafness an established crust

And the birds dropped like the flies that would consume them
The hoi polloi kicked with intent
Windows broke, pavement cracked
Then silence flooded in.