The Word, Iz

There is a word, writ large
On the concrete of experience
Which explains succinctly
The proof of the Universe's
Mystery. It is barely noticed
By the average human eye
By the ignorant passers-by.
Only one searching specifically
Would take care to notice
Even if the letters were multicolor
And the lining was the silver of clouds.
Someone has taken their sweet time
To conjure this metaphorical masterpeace
Without care of fame or ego-building
Simply expressing the genius
Of perfect simplicity amid chaos
With a natural ease, on an unnatural easel.
It is supernatural, beyond Nature
And the meaning of it is meaninglessness.