An Epiphany

Carried across millenia
Astrologer and crucifier
Who both believed to have spoken
With the Tetragrammaton
But God had not appeased their prayers
Just my word, my questioning
Course would eventually correct
And violate intonation
Centuries would wax and wane
Paths worn across the continents
The scimitar of life will always swing
Would fluctuate and atrophy
A child is born the progeny
Beneath glint of lunar cities
Can it be chance that she now lives
Did my questions bear consequence?