A man sits in an inherited treehouse
Supported by some rotting legs of legacy,
Weighted down by his flapping decor of ego.
A hundred metres high he claims he knows the earth and sky
But never has he felt the worldly wind’s true touch,
Nor has he bent down to test the wise tops of the pines.
He will live long enough to feel their cuts, just once.
for the sake of flow 
That last line – amazing!