like sand between my fingers

Every once in a while, a sense of contentment fills me. 

It seeps through my being, like sand between my fingers.

The contentment is simple. Like a hunger that is satisfied by food. Or a hot day relieved by rain. 

The contentment is, perhaps, caused by nothing - nothing triggers it, nothing takes it away. 

And yet it comes. 

The feeling that hits me presses on the core of my heart and fills me with a sense of exhilaration; if I could run for a thousand miles I would still have the energy to run a thousand more.

The nothing that takes it away.
It is a bitter wind that tosses leaves and brings a winter slouch. A prose that is indecipherable.
The elation I felt has been taken away, even as I speak it seeps deeper into my mind, taking hold of it with an iron fist.

Nothing is explained and nothing is expected to be.

Lost, but now I am found;
I can see but once I was blind.
I was so confused as a little child, trying to take what I could get
Scared that I couldn't find all the answers, honey.