Spalt and the shallow

We've jumped ahead
too many times.
With forced hands
and a story.

We saw them,
it had to be night,
they were
(in no specific order)
the moon and all it's inhabitants.

We watched them raise their young,
only to watch them die.
We mourned with them.

But atmospheric pressure
and combustion came upon us.
We would implode
and our words would then mean nothing.