It’s like a Rothko. You gaze into it and it reveals itself to you. A secret between two strangers. The observed and the observer. What you see in it is not what I see in it. And the ultimate tragedy is that we can never explain it to another because human language, with our old, dead, clumsy, empty symbols, was never designed to convey the transcendent. And so we each die alone, incapable of ever truly expressing our deepest thoughts and emotions to one another no matter how hard we try.
Either that or they just thought it looked cool on a t-shirt.