Holy Christmas.
A mysterious creature sustains itself by sucking the salt out of people AND it requires love to survive by allowing it a sort of psychic camouflage? O! The tragic-fairy-tale-beauty of it all!
There are a number of tales wherein kings have disowned their daughters for comparing them to salt. In the end they are shown their error when — unbeknownst to them — they attend their own daughters’ wedding feasts and made to eat food without any salt in it. Salt is proven precious for improving upon that which is always made beautiful by its necessity.
The poetry practically writes itself.
Sonnet 1
From early days you gave me joy and taught me with unmeasured hand the way of laughter’s sweet employ to keep its healing my command; unnumbered tears wiped from my eyes by you who shared in all my sighs and gave me free your shoulder strong, so making childhood like a song. Today you ask for my report full-knowing what I have to say, yet still you must put on the play and query forth to hear in short: “As dear to me as salt are you; as dear as water, love of you.”