Who are we to thank for yesterday? The sky, a blue vaulted ceiling of heaven. A quietness where you could hear a falling leaf settle to the ground. The river, a smell of burning incense on the altar, an aroma awakening our sense of smell to the pinnacle it deserves. It was a holy day, a Monday, a day that can gift us with imaginations of the Divine. Oh, who casts off Divine for happenstance? How dull would a heart and mind be if chance were the one to bow before in Thanksgiving for Monday?
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