Hope 4 Tomorrow 🌄

If Not That Raw Material

(若不是那块料 … …)

Do you still remember what you said—

Without that primal, rugged stone,

The iron’s form can never rise,

No blade from coldness grown.

I held this weight within my hands,

A silence sharp and clear,

That some are never forged in fire,

No sword shall they engineer.

I chose to lay philosophy down,

Its questions worn and thin,

For pondering that quiet truth

Brought sadness from within.

Not wrath, nor blame, nor bitter scorn,

But mourning deep and slow—

For fires left cold, for strength denied,

For seeds that fail to grow.

To see the ones who might have shone,

Yet falter, fail to rise—

This sorrow cuts a deeper vein

Than any spoken lies.

And still, within that ache and grief,

A whisper, soft and light:

They need not wear the iron’s shape,

But craft their own from night.

Original and unrefined,

Their metal strange and new,

Not lesser in the furnace’ glow,

But different, wild, and true.

I free myself from yearning’s chains,

The heavy, silent pain,

And bless the paths they dare to take,

Through shadow and through flame.

For in their forging lies a truth,

Beyond my eyes can see—

That strength wears many faces,

And freedom’s not just me.

So may they walk their chosen roads,

Unbound by iron’s weight,

And find within their own raw core

A fate no loss can break.

《明日方舟》 — Arknights .