Analysis of The Many Wells

One man and a village amidst a sandstorm
Over a fortnight it died and drought was born
Once every hour he slaved upon the ground
On hopes of many wells to keep the town sound
So many holes adorned the villages’ walls
Yet not one reaped water to quench their dry calls
He dug everywhere and here and there he ran
Until a wise man passed by and mocked the man
“Why slave upon many? They all are not done.”
You can dig deeper and find water from one.”