The empty continuum

The black letters of the book
in every corner, every nook,
so devoid of life,
so full of life -
  the impetuosity of an ambushing defector,
  the laggard wisdom of a conscientious objector,
  the wisdom that hitch-hikes on time,
  in the deep fold of that wrinkle,
  the silence of the shadows,
  the commotion of the fringes,
  the rumblings of death,
  the shallowness of each passing breath -
so full of life,
so devoid of life -
in every corner, every nook,
the empty continuum of colourlessness,
holds together,
the black letters of the book.