A touch of brilliance?

Is it the touch of brilliance that we all seek?
The words strung together like a divine proclamation.
Words that create more than they destroy.
Lacy images of mind spilled from the imagination.
Does craving that spark make me weak?
Poetry prompted by vague sensation.
Used by my muse like a puppet or a toy.
Am I being heard is there any indication?
Or is this too vague a presentation?