When the child was a child

'Himmel uber Berlin', Wim Wenders
Song of Childhood by Peter Handke

When the child was a child
It walked with its arms swinging,
wanted the brook to be a river,
the river to be a torrent,
and this puddle to be the sea.

When the child was a child,
it didn’t know that it was a child,
everything was soulful,
and all souls were one.

When the child was a child,
it had no opinion about anything, had no habits,
it often sat cross-legged, took off running, had a cowlick in its hair,
and made no faces when photographed.

When the child was a child,
It was the time for these questions:
Why am I me, and why not you?
Why am I here, and why not there?
When did time begin, and where does space end?
Is life under the sun not just a dream?
Is what I see and hear and smell not just an illusion of a world before the world?
Given the facts of evil and people. does evil really exist?
How can it be that I, who I am, didn’t exist before I came to be, and that, someday, I, who I am, will no longer be who I am?