Selves are quite the opposite of souls,
As what might change is never what must be.
In one we find pure light; the other, coals,
Now burning, now burned out, now memory.
The self is something that can grow and change,
Perhaps love virtue, perhaps descend to sin,
Alive to faith or innerly estranged,
The lonely witness to what one has been.
Remember that the soul is also you,
Is what is, which is eternal love,
Called to love by love you know is true,
Knowing what sheer grace might through you move.