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Guest poem sent in by Steve Ornish <Sornish@>

What grieves me is not
What lies within the heart,
But those things of beauty
Which never can be . . .

They are the shapeless shapes
Which pass, though sorrow
Cannot know them
Nor love dream them.

They are as though sadness
Were a tree and, one by one,
Its leaves were to fall
Half outlined in the mist.

 	-- Fernando Pessoa

When Fernando Pessoa, a Portuguese poet, died in 1935 his work was little
known, even in Portugal.   Over the last few decades, his fame has spread
and his poetry translated into many languages.

For me, this poem speaks to the grief--not from an actual loss (i.e., "not
what lies within the heart)--but from the unrealized experiences that occur
in relationships throughout one's life   "those things of beauty which can
never be."   The paradox is that we are mostly unconscious of these  missed
opportunities:  "the shapeless shapes which pass"  which cannot be known
through sorrow, love, or dreams.

-Steven A. Ornish, MD

Biography and some links:
  http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?prmID=771