On Failure

I am a Time Traveller born into a speeding car,
Finding myself careering down a rutted track.
My consciousness grows of a wall, not afar,
Haplessly into which  I will surly soon smack.

Now in the driving seat with hands clasped to the wheel,
Brakes screeching inexpertly attempting to swerve.
Without sufficient strength the failure I feel,
Lying injured in pain, the consequence I deserve?

A physician arrives, I notice similar scaring,
From the wreckage I am miraculously rescued.
In his eyes I see he understands my questioning,
"Yes I passed down this way and was similarly abused."

"These risks we allowed, feeling them worth the exhilaration,
Of experiencing the intensity of the freedom you're due.
To fail is not failure when now, and the next occasion,
From the start of the journey, I am sitting next to you."