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You Are Not Late — A Poem of African Rising
  I did not grow with fingers dancing on keys,   No code in my cradle, no tech in my breeze.   In the heart of my youth, no wires, no screens,   Only dreams shaped by the land and moonbeams. They said, “Start young,” but I came with age,   Not in the prologue, but mid in the page.   “I’m too old,” I whispered...
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