Analysis of The Wind and the Trees

The trees rustled an English whisper I heard so perfectly well
They were magical messengers sent to deliver a lengthy wordy spell
My ears could hear, my eyes could see, but I simply could not believe
The words they wrote right through my pen were so beautifully conceived

I checked my mind deep inside the secret place that is my home
Where memories make the masks on the wall and all my thoughts roam
There seemed to be a streaming in of divine words and notions
Whatever the case, I accept my fate as an agent of poetic potions

This world is splattered with mysteries abounding for you to contemplate
Through trial and error, you eventually find you need not investigate
Complications arise when we try to find the wrong way from the right
To ponder each feather on your wings all day will only delay your flight

There's a time in our lives when everything fine seems to change its tune
When the car breaks down and the rain clouds around release a monsoon
And during the storm that pounds on my door and threatens like no other
I try hard to recall that each raindrop that falls will quench the thirst of another

So if I'm down and out with nowhere to run while stuck inside my cell
And I begin to doubt the nature around that asks but never tells
I think of the wind that swirls up dreams and rustles the trees with joy
And remember those trees that waved to me when I was just a little boy