Often, we attempt to nurture the self. But, the self isn’t the same as the soul. I’ve been considering this quite a bit lately. Here is a poem that arose from from my reflections. Soul, soul. I hadn’t seen her in some time, as she loved her secret space. When she peaked her presence, I delighted. In short order, I took control of her needs. I bought her a Starbucks latte and a new red handbag, but she didn’t seem impressed. I fed her fancy chocolates and poured her a glass of wine. She smiled a bit, but still, something…