When the Muse speaks, you take dictation

Very rarely, a poetic Muse shouts in my ear. Now, I am NOT a poet. I couldn't even give any kind of critique of a poem. The last time I studied poety was in high school, a million years ago. I couldn't even tell a good poem from a bad poem. But sometime, when that Muse is speaking to you, you sigh, you grab a pen and some paper and you take dictation. And here we go...

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Life Situation

The reeds surround me.

I have been
Pushed
To the reeds
By the
Unexpected,
Rushing,
Dam-bursting
Overflow
Of the River of Life.

I am lost
Here
In the reeds;
They have disoriented me
From the way
Back to the River.

Tall plumes cover
The motion of the Sun
And the stalks are
A maze of prison bars.

I wade
Unceasingly;
Neither
Crossing over to dry Land
Nor
Finding my way back
To the River's flow.

I cannot
Make the green reeds sing;
No soft melody
To soothe me.

Does anyone hear me
Or
Do the reeds shush my voice?
Can anyone see me
Or
Do the reeds disguise me?

Am I lost forever?

The Reeds
Are now
Home.

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So whaddya think? Good? Awful?
Which ever it is, I acknowledege/blame the Muse : )