The road is old. The wheels are broken. You are a mason. Your hands are red. You carry a chisel. You carry a trowel. You carry a bag of lime. The dust is thick. The sun is high. You walk on. The air is dry. Your mouth is dry. You do not stop. You must not stop. The village is far. The village is hungry. They need walls. They need roofs. They need you. You are the only one left. The others are gone. The others are dead. You are the last mason. You are the last man.

Who are you? You are Thomas. Your name is Thomas. But you do not remember why. You remember only the stone. You remember the weight. You remember the fit. You are walking toward the Hill. The Hill has a tower. The tower is empty. The tower is broken. You know this. You have always known this. But you go. You go because you must. You go because the stone calls.

You meet a boy. He is small. He is thin. He has eyes like flint. He stands by the tree. He does not run. He does not cry. He looks at you. He looks at your bag. He looks at your chisel. He says, "Master."

Who is he? You do not know. He is not your son. You have no son. You have no wife. You have no home. You have only the work. You look at him. He looks at you. There is a silence. The wind blows. The leaves fall. The boy says, "The tower is open."

You nod. You do not speak. You cannot speak. Your throat is tight. You are afraid. You are afraid of the open. You are afraid of the empty. You are afraid of the silence. But you nod. The boy walks ahead. You follow. Your feet are heavy. Your heart is heavy. The road is long. The road is hard.

You walk for hours. The sun moves. The shadows stretch. The boy walks fast. You walk slow. You lag behind. You look at the ground. You see the stones. You see the cracks. You see the decay. The world is falling apart. The soil is loose. The roots are bare. Everything is dying. You feel it in your bones. You feel it in your blood. You are dying too.

The boy stops. He waits. He turns. He looks at you. His face is pale. His face is kind. He says, "Are you coming?"

You are coming. You are always coming. You are the mason. You are the builder. You are the one who fixes. You are the one who saves. You believe this. You have always believed this. But the belief is thin. The belief is paper. The wind is strong. The paper will tear.

You climb the hill. The grass is yellow. The earth is dry. The tower is there. It is black. It is tall. It is ruined. The top is gone. The walls are cracked. The stones are loose. It looks like a tooth. It looks like a bone. It looks like a wound.

You stand before it. You look up. The sky is blue. The sky is empty. The tower is empty. You feel a pull. You feel a pull in your chest. It is sharp. It is cold. It is sweet. You want to enter. You want to see. You want to know.

The boy enters. You follow. The door is wood. The wood is rot. It breaks under your hand. You step inside. The air is cold. The air is stale. The air smells of dust. The air smells of time. The walls are smooth. The walls are dark. The floor is stone. The floor is cold.

You walk in. The boy walks in. The space is large. The space is round. The center is open. The center is empty. There is nothing there. There is no altar. There is no statue. There is no god. There is only the stone. There is only the space.

You look at the walls. You see the marks. You see the chisel marks. You see the trowel marks. They are yours. They are your own marks. You made them. You remember now. You remember the work. You remember the years. You remember the labor. You made this tower. You built this place. You gave your life to it.

Why did you build it? You do not know. You do not remember. You only know the stone. You only know the fit. You only know the silence. You are the mason. You are the builder. You are the servant. You are the slave. You are the tool.

The boy looks at you. He looks at the walls. He looks at the marks. He says, "It is beautiful."

It is not beautiful. It is cold. It is empty. It is dead. It is a lie. You built a lie. You built a cage. You built a prison. You trapped yourself. You trapped the stone. You trapped the silence.

You feel the truth. The truth is cold. The truth is sharp. The truth cuts you. You are not a hero. You are not a savior. You are a fool. You are a beggar. You are a man who built a house for no one. You are a man who died before he was born.

The boy steps closer. He touches the wall. He runs his hand over the stone. He feels the texture. He feels the age. He feels the pain. He looks at you. His eyes are wet. He says, "It is lonely."

Yes. It is lonely. You are lonely. You have always been lonely. You hid in the stone. You hid in the work. You hid in the silence. You thought the stone would save you. You thought the work would save you. You were wrong. The stone does not save. The work does not save. Only the man saves. Only the man connects.

You look at the boy. He is young. He is alive. He is warm. He is real. You look at him. You see the life in him. You see the fire in him. You see the hope in him. You have none. You have nothing. You are empty. You are hollow. You are a shell.

You pick up your chisel. You look at it. It is heavy. It is cold. It is your weapon. It is your tool. It is your curse. You have carried it for years. You have carried it for a lifetime. You have used it to cut. You have used it to shape. You have used it to destroy.

You hold the chisel. You look at the boy. He looks at you. He is afraid. He is curious. He is waiting. You are waiting. The silence is loud. The silence is heavy. The silence is crushing.

You raise the chisel. You aim it at the wall. You aim it at your own work. You aim it at your own life. You swing. The chisel hits the stone. The stone cracks. The stone breaks. A piece falls. The dust rises. The sound is sharp. The sound is clear. The sound is final.

You swing again. The stone breaks. The wall cracks. The structure weakens. The tower groans. The tower shudders. The tower is dying. You are killing it. You are killing yourself. You are freeing it. You are freeing yourself.

The boy screams. He runs. He runs out of the tower. He runs down the hill. He runs away. He is gone. He is safe. He is free.

You stand in the center. You stand in the ruins. You stand in the dust. You look at the broken wall. You look at the falling stones. You look at the falling sky. The tower is falling. The tower is crumbling. The tower is dying.

You do not move. You do not run. You do not fight. You stand still. You stand firm. You stand in the center of the storm. You stand in the center of the end.

The stones fall. The dust covers you. The darkness takes you. The silence takes you. You are the mason. You are the builder. You are the one who let go.

You are the one who let go.

***

The letter was found in the rubble. It was folded. It was stained. It was wet. It was dry. It was old. It was new. It was yours.

To whom it may concern,

I write this from the end. I write this from the dark. I write this from the dust. I am Thomas. I was a mason. I built a tower. I built a lie. I built a cage. I trapped myself. I trapped the stone. I trapped the silence.

I thought I was saving. I thought I was building. I was only hiding. I was only running. I was only afraid. I was afraid of the open. I was afraid of the empty. I was afraid of the people. I was afraid of the love. I was afraid of the life.

I met a boy. He was small. He was thin. He was real. He was life. He was love. I saw him. I saw the truth. I saw my own emptiness. I saw my own failure. I saw my own death.

I broke the tower. I broke the lie. I broke the cage. I let the stones fall. I let the dust rise. I let the silence break. I let the sound in.

I am not a hero. I am not a savior. I am a fool. I am a beggar. I am a man who let go. I am a man who died. I am a man who lived.

Do not build towers. Do not hide in stone. Do not hide in work. Do not hide in silence. Look at the people. Look at the boy. Look at the light. Look at the life.

Love is not a structure. Love is not a wall. Love is not a roof. Love is the open. Love is the empty. Love is the space between.

I am going now. The stones are falling. The dust is thick. The darkness is close. But I am not afraid. I am free. I am light. I am air.

I am the mason. I am the builder. I am the one who let go.

Remember this. Remember the open. Remember the empty. Remember the love.

Thomas

The end.