In POETRYby Thade Correa2 Comments

To Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche & Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche

As before, the sunlight this morning
touches everything,
runs its hand over the grasses,
the trees, over the windowsill,
over the desk at which I sit writing.

Intimate as a lover, it caresses
the earth, knowing
the treasure that lies buried
deep within,
nameless and wordless,
as the dream of this life.

The light in your eyes
too precious for words
The light in my eyes
too precious for words—

Heart, live long enough to love
the life that is living us,


for death comes without warning,
and yet we go on being.

From the other side of life we live:
death feeds us

as a fire turns old wood to ashes
nourishing the green wood’s rising again.


If who I think I am
And who you think you are
meet one another,
perhaps some misunderstanding will arise,
and we’ll be lost again in the dark.

At the languid cocktail party,
at sunset, we met to discuss
our tired selves, and turned away
lonelier: two dried sticks rubbed together
without sparks.

Yet here, in the open, a shining tree rises.
It is nameless, it is the knowing
of the true self, the voiceless voice of Being
crying in the winds of time.

What we do is all we own.
May it be bright as the sun
dissolving winter’s frost.
May it be bright as the branches of that tree,
which do not break and do not bend
in the wind, but rather,


Heart, speak to me. We are shattered.  
The winds batter, the rain falls.
The dream of this world seems not to hold.  

It never did.
When did we meet last?
How many times in a life
do we see our true face?

Speak, heart.  We are breathing
in a circle, all this has happened
to us before, somewhere, in this
same body.  Only the weather

was different.  Only the dance remains.
Heart, together we’ll make this strange
journey on foot, mad
like always.  Wind will blow,

rain will fall, we’ll never sleep again.
Remember us, hold us love.
Love remains. Heart, last long enough
To making meaning of the rain.

Last long enough to love the life
That is living us. Heart, we’ll suffer
and that suffering says
in the wind’s blue tongue: “You are not alone.”
It says, “May no one be unconsoled.”

Heart, a shining tree sprouts within.
It is always greening, with sun-silvered leaves
lifting in the wind, offering cool shade to anyone.
Heart, in this life I have dreamed, as others before,

that you were a resting-place,
a refuge for the timeless.
And indeed, you were.

About the Author
Thade Correa

Thade Correa

Thade Correa is a writer, composer, pianist, translator, and teacher. He has studied at IU Bloomington, University of Chicago, and Notre Dame, where he received an MFA in poetry in 2013. He publishes his writing widely and his music is available online and through Alliance Publications. He is a longtime meditator and a Shambhala community member.

Photo by Andrea Roth. From the collection of the Shambhala Archives.

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    Dear Thade,
    So happy your birthday led me to your facebook page and this beautiful poetry. I am the one who received a present! I wish I’d known you were at Notre Dame, maybe we could’ve connected on one of my family visits to South Bend. I am seeing that you are developing your artistry as your spirituality. I am happy to be in touch. Looking forward to more!

    1. Thade Correa

      Dear Allana,

      It’s so good to hear from you, and I’m happy that this moved you so much! It would definitely have been great to connect at Notre Dame; I’m in Hammond now–not so far from South Bend–and it would be wonderful to connect anywhere, anytime. I’m looking forward to it. I hope you are well, and all the best wishes. Keep in touch!

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