My life does not belong to me

Why is that so? The air asks me intruding with disdain,
It is so, because, my nature as futile as a constrain,
Reminds me of the importance of Grace.
What is Grace, Sir? I kindly ask looking at the trees,
Grace is not to be spoiled for choices but rather to be at a loss for them,
Grace breaths and dies for the other, not even expecting content.
Outcomes never existed in the eyes of that one we condemn and
belonging becomes rather ambitious and surely desecrates its virtue.
Reviving in oneself through one another is the secret why, you,
my life, does not belong to me ever since I met you,

living air, that flows within the trees and still reminds me,
that observing and loving others is the unquestionable risk
that shall ever overcome me.
Angelisia