The Topography of Oblivion

A Landscape Erased by Time

A world where remembrance is a dwindling resource

forgotten landscapes unfold like a palimpsest of worn vellum

the gentle hills that once cradled the ancient hydrological systems

now lie barren,

erosive power of temporal decay

The cartographers of old, who once carefully mapped

the contours of this world, now find their work

reduced to fragments, tattered and yellowed with age

as the very entity of reality begins to degrade into a state of ontological ambiguity

In the distance, a mountain range, once a proud exemplar

of geomorphological complexity, now wears a mantle of obfuscation

its peaks, softened, rounded, as if worn down by

the relentless tides of epistemic erosion that lap at its base

Rivers, too, have begun to forget their courses

their waters, once crystal clear, now turbid and uncertain

as they meander through a landscape that is slowly

erasing itself, leaving behind only the faintest smudge

of a forgotten paradigm

The forests, those vast and sprawling metropolises

of verdant complexity, where ancient trees once stood as sentinels

of remembrance, now stand as skeletal reminders

of a world that is slowly forgetting its own taxonomic classification

In this desolate landscape, the skies are a deep,

burnished umber, like the patina on a worn artifact

as the very earth itself begins to forget

its own lithological composition, its own geomorphological rhythms,

its own chronostratigraphic identity

The scent of desiccation

the very earth itself begins to forget

its own hydrological cycles, its own atmospheric circulation patterns

leaving behind only the faintest spot

of a forgotten climatic regime

In this world, the concept of time is a fluid,

ever-changing entity, a river that flows

in reverse, erasing all that it touches

leaving behind only the faintest stain

of a forgotten chronostratigraphic sequence

The creatures that inhabit this world

are themselves afflicted with a form of cognitive dissonance

their memories, once a coherent narrative,

now a fragmented, disjointed series of events

as if their very perception of reality

has been disrupted by the forces of epistemic erosion

Their language, too, is a shadow of its former self

a series of fragmented phrases, half-remembered

words, and gestures that no longer hold meaning

in a world that is slowly forgetting its own semiotic codes

In the cities, the buildings stand as empty,

hollow monoliths, earnests to a civilization

that has forgotten its own architectural heritage

its own cultural identity, its own

historical context, which is slowly being erased

by the relentless tides of epistemic erosion

The streets, once thronged with the sounds

of human activity, of conversation, of creativity

now lie empty, silent,

realism of society torn asunder

by the forces of social disintegration

In the midst of this desolation,

a figure wanders, a cartographer

the forgotten, seeks to map

the contours of a world, slowly

erasing itself, to preserve

the memories of a civilization

that is slowly forgetting its own existence

This figure moves with a sense of purpose

through the empty landscapes, the deserted cities

documenting the gradual erosion

of a world, disappearing

into the void of epistemic oblivion

With each step, the figure leaves behind

a trail of memories, of fragments

of a world that once was,

a world that is slowly being erased

by the relentless tides of epistemic erosion

The figure's heart is obtuse

of remembrance, of the knowledge

that this world, this civilization

is slowly disappearing,

leaving behind only the faintest mark

of a forgotten past

And yet, the figure persists,

driven by a sense of duty,

of responsibility, to preserve

the memories of a world

that is slowly forgetting its own existence

In the silence, the figure hears

the calls of the past,

the echoes of a civilization

that once thrived,

that once pulsed with life,

with energy, with vitality

The figure's ears are attuned

to the subtle vibrations

of the earth, the rhythms

of the landscape,

the beat of the heart

of a world that is slowly forgetting its own identity

In this world, the concept of self

is a fluid, ever-changing entity

a river that flows in reverse,

erasing all that it touches,

leaving behind only the faintest fleck

of a forgotten sense of identity

The figure's sense of self is a fragile,

shattered thing, a reflection

of the world it inhabits,

a world that is slowly forgetting its own existence

And yet, the figure holds on

to the fragments of its own identity

a tenuous thread that connects

it to the world, to the past,

to the memories that are slowly

being erased by the relentless tides of epistemic erosion

In the distance, a mountain range

rises, a reminder of a world

that once was, a world that is slowly

being erased, forgotten,

lost to the void of epistemic oblivion

The figure stands at the edge

of this world, at the threshold

of the unknown,

and looks out upon the landscape

of a civilization that is slowly

forgetting its own existence

In this moment, the figure

is aware of the weight

of remembrance, of the burden

of preserving the past,

of holding on to the fragments

of a world that is slowly

disappearing into the void

The figure's actions are a tribute

to the human spirit,

a spirit that persists

even in the face of overwhelming

oblivion, a spirit that

refuses to surrender

to the forces of epistemic erosion

In this world, the concept of hope

is a fragile, flickering flame

that burns brightly in the darkness

a flame that guides the figure

through the desolate landscape

of a world that is slowly

forgetting its own existence

The figure's journey is a journey

through the void,

a journey through the abyss

of epistemic oblivion,

a journey that is both

futile and necessary

a journey that is driven

by the human spirit

to preserve, to remember,

to hold on to the fragments

of a world that is slowly

disappearing into the void

The figure's heart is a burden

a burden that weighs it down

a burden that threatens

to consume it whole

and yet, the figure persists

driven by a sense of duty

of responsibility

to preserve the memories

of a world that is slowly

forgetting its own existence

In the end, the figure's journey

is a journey into the unknown

a journey into the void

of epistemic oblivion

a journey that is both

futile and necessary

a journey that is driven

by the human spirit

to preserve, to remember,

to hold on to the fragments

of a world that is slowly

disappearing into the void

The figure's story is a story

of loss, of forgetting,

of erasure,

a story that is both

personal and universal

a story that speaks

to the human condition

in all its complexity

and fragility

The figure's world is a world

that is slowly disappearing

into the void of epistemic oblivion

a world that is losing

its sense of identity,

its sense of self,

its sense of purpose

And yet, the figure persists

driven by a sense of duty

of responsibility

to preserve the memories

of a world that is slowly

forgetting its own existence

in a desperate bid

to stave off the inevitable

forces of epistemic erosion.

© 2025 Kingsley Gomes. All rights reserved.