Philosophical

That hare upon the celestial pasture 
Has no rabid nature,his white fur is fair. 
The moon pulls a curtain of darkness over the day 
And chapters of dominance are set in motion. 
 That shooting star sails the ocean of blackness 
 To harbor the romantic dreams of hearts that care. 
 The sun shows the details of plans carefully set in place 
 To make these ideals come true: 
 
That sword crafted in a disciplined art in hands so sure 
Is cold, but heats to the blood of raged hungers men bare. 
To the esthetics of women determining your lust or love, 
To the greatness of statues that determine your strenght or honour, 
A sword of justice you wield, 
In What day? 
In What night?

What day? What night?