They died with their eyes open: An ode to the class of '76.°°°

They died with their eyes open, dry, wide, 
  with a fog of an absent life, forgotten.

Man whose shadows perished with their souls but whose purpose kept their eyes lit, 
 burning beautifully inside the depths of forever. 
Tracks of their last tears led to were their cries buried, silenced in infinity. 

The terror that dried over their faces of ends so adrupt; 
 a cancellation of dreams, tomorrows, promises and conversations screaming to be spoken, lived.
Of songs longing to be sung and dances begging to be portrayed with these laid limbs.

They died with their eyes open to keep their vision alive. 
They found us in our slumber and owned our dreams.
With our own eyes shut we saw THEIR dreams, heard their riots and felt their rage. 
Echoes of a thumping revolution haunting the grounds they marched.

Their bodies lay dry and deserted, visions of daisies once blooming with youth now fallen and over. They died with their eyes open watching over our future and delivering it safely in our stride.

Look them in their eyes with a promise as appreciation and give them a serene rest. Salute!