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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I am the voice of time — The whisper of centuries long silenced, And today, I thunder: The Earth has turned. The meek now reign. In the year 2050, China stands not as a country, But as the heartbeat of a new era, The firstborn of the Global South’s resurrection. Not with swords, but silicon. Not with chains, but circuits. Africa — No longer a continent of carved borders, But a single soul, One country, one currency, one command. Its deserts bloom with data farms, Its skies sing with satellites. Nairobi, Lagos, Addis — the new jewels of the world. The old gods — IMF, World Bank, UN — Have crumbled into myths for the museum. BRICS++ has risen, forged in fire, A furnace of South-South solidarity, Wielding economic thunder and military lightning. The New Alliance of the Rising Earth — a pact forged in justice — Holds a strength the world has never known. A military force not born for conquest, But to protect balance, defend harmony, and uproot hypocrisy. Meanwhile... Europe staggers — Not united, but scattered in tribal echoes, Its streets echoing with hunger, Its parliaments burning with blame. Third World, now not a label, But a mirror to their future. And America — Once fifty stars in pride — Now scattered into fractured republics, Each fighting to remember a name. They come now, ship after ship, Seeking shelter, seeking work, Filing into Global South embassies With applications marked: Desperate. And the white man, once crowned in ignorance, Now knows the taste of his own medicine. Discriminated, undocumented, Told: Learn the language. Wait your turn. Prove your worth. But this is not vengeance. This is balance. The earth, long patient, has reset the scale. Oh reader — This is not a dream. This is the roar of a future that remembers. A reckoning seeded in colonized soil, Watered with blood, Now grown into a harvest of reckoning. The last shall be first, And the first shall be last. This is the New Superpower. And its name is Justice.
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