Outdated Ideas

Typically what happens is,
The sea retreats, its shoreline
Dragging back grains of memory
From an old set of logics,
Forgotten footprints on the sand.

Somebody drags an idea from the past,
A treasured shell, once polished
By the waves of certainty.
They grasp it tightly, hoping its echoes
Will unlock the new one, seamlessly.

That worked before, they believe,
Pulling fragments and whispers
From the forgotten tides.
But this ocean resists, refusing
To mold itself to outdated contours.

In their hands, a relic,
Preserved in solemnity,
Now a weight to bear.
They try to apply it, warmly,
Only to find the surge indifferent.

And it doesn't work,
The familiar shape collides
With the currents of change,
No longer compatible,
A boat without a navigable course.