Experimenting with some prose

The dust has long settled from that tragic now long ago day. Not so long as to erase the memory, but long enough to forget it in the day to day. Time has a way of erasing wounds, but never truly healing them. I stand here this day in the bright morning sun. Leaves have begun to turn on the sparse trees that dot the manmade landscape. The air has a crispness, but also a sorrow, like the air you breathe over the grave of a departed friend. There is a paleness to my soul, as if I carry ghost from a part of me that has died and not yet passed into another realm.
I struggle with the past as it influences my future, and the future of my children. A future where there is hate. A future where we have embraced the base nature, where there may only be one alpha, one rule, one law. A future where a person can kill that which he refuses to know. I look up and witness a sea of people I do not understand. The bustle of the street brings the waves of humanity over me. I do not cringe, but ride that wave to see where it is bearing me. Is this the path to understanding?