[ WP ] You 're a composer with synesthesia . Describe your works without using sound .

It starts out as a kind of wistful yellow, edging hopeful. The kind of yellow you only see just before the sun sets, just before everything turns pink and orange, purple and blue. 
 
 Suddenly, it seems as if the floor drops out beneath us as the next chord sounds a deep, shocking blue - the blue that illuminates the silhouettes of barren trees in winter twilight. It softly eases then to the ashy green of a sorrowful forest. The sorrow turns plaintive as the green grows vivid, then relaxes reassuringly into a soft cloud of sunrise pink. The pink darkens as it reaches out, turning quickly to a color human eyes can not see, but human ears may hear. It's a color as sorrowful as the blue-grey stormy sea, as expectant as a deep green rain-soaked pine forest, and yet as calm and self-assured as the soft golden pink that accompanies the new day. It gathers strength and vibrancy until at last, glowing golden light bursts forth. Golden light igniting the tops of the verdant pines. Golden light illuminating grey clouds and reflecting off the slate blue sea. Golden light embraced by the pink of sunrise. 
 
 The gold grows older as the phrase progresses, sinking into a regal, powerful, shimmering orange. Then, a twist of heartbreaking violet - simultaneously a passionate ox blood and tear-rending sapphire - shoots through the ancient orange as the chords settle into peaceful darkness. 
 
 White creeps in. 
 
 Questioning, mysterious white emerges like fog rolling off a lake. But before too long the fog dissipates to reveal an indigo sky, every patch of sky revealing anew shade and depth of indigo. We climb the sky until we reach the black nothing of space. Stars echo a paler shade of the ancient gold that lit the sky. Slowly, the fog rolls in again, and all fades to creeping, questioning white.
