Salt is the memory of oceans,
quiet, ancient, patient.
It settles first,
white as forgiveness,
teaching food how to remember itself.

Pepper is the spark—
dark, sudden, unapologetic.
It wakes the tongue,
makes the ordinary flinch,
laugh,
pay attention.

Alone, salt can be lonely,
too honest, too bare.
Alone, pepper can be loud,
all heat, no home.
Together,
they argue gently on the plate
and call it balance.

Salt says, stay,
pepper says, change.
Salt keeps the past alive,
pepper dares the future to arrive.
Between them,
a meal becomes a story.

Like people,
they work best when shared—
one grounding,
one daring,
both necessary
to make life taste
like something worth savoring.