Window, or Mirror?

When the place of things shifts,

meaning slips too...

To the right side of your room,

in that very spot where your mirror table stands,

a window opens—

toward a nowhere-land.

I don’t know where,

I just know it waits,

silently, wide-eyed.

And on the other side,

behind a pane of glass coated with mercury,

on the left of your room,

you see an image—

sometimes green and sunlit,

sometimes stormy and dust-filled.

I ask, then,

what is that one restless, shared element

in between?