Sealed

How ìs one's fate sealed?
Is it folded into an envelope,
its flap with gum congealed?
Or decreed on parchment
that is signed with a flourish
and reinforced with relish?

Or, is it guarded by molten lac
its quickly stiffening strips
impressed with the insignia
of the impresario out of reach,
its immaculate seals
impossible to breach?

Is it contained in a jar
with a cork at its mouth,
or, like an echo left to linger
in an empty room
detained in a doom
that seems like forever?