Hearts Behind The Tomes Poem by Akhtar Jawad

Heat strokes, mercury rose to forty,
Confined in homes, even earth thirsty,
Play Domes, waiting for the players,
Eyes on tomes, hands rose for the prayers,
God! Overlooking stains, a dust storm,
Followed by the rains, demon of heat out of form,
Man once again, for a game in play domes,
For a new stain, on the shelf are the tomes!
God never minds, smiles in the hearts behind the tomes,
The cassette He rewinds, man confined again in homes,
Once again the prayers, once again the rains,
Once again the players, once again the stains,
God is the best of players, life is a lovely play,
Destined to the prayers, he is made of clay,
Claims of the ignorant, miracle of his specific book,
Men are innocent, thanklessly their hearts they overlook!