don't go dark on me again

Somewhere he appears and I'm listening.
He said: "don't go dark on me again."
And I'm thinking, going over that statement.
Then there's a buzz.
And I'm ripped from my dreams as the alarm clock explodes right next to my ear and I reach to hit the snooze, can't find the button, so, instead, I rip the damn thing out of the wall.
That that alarm clock really is a son-of-a-bitch, waking me up when I'm in sweet darkness.
Anyways.
I get up, pack my things and step out the door.
Outside there is a blanket of snow, peaceful.
I run my hand softly across the top of a snow-covered hedge as I pass it by, and feel the sharp cold of it sting my sensations.
The snow is still falling and I'm thinking about things; about a moment that my dreams don't want me to forget, about thoughts that I'd rather like to forget, about issues I don't want to deal with, and suddenly I have a bitter taste in my mouth.
A bird chirps from a branch hanging low near my head. I snap back from thought and am focused.
The snow is white and the brightness really is a nice thing to see.
He's right.