From an early age, Ahmed Awny found refuge in words —
writing poetry not to be heard, but to survive.
Each verse became a quiet rhythm,
a way to turn pain into language
and silence into something that could finally breathe.

Poetry was his dialogue with the world —
a fragile attempt to find beauty amid the noise of uncertainty.
And just when he thought it would remain a private passion,
life surprised him.

A chance encounter with an advertising production company
turned one of his poems into a song —
The Seventh Color of the Sky.
Hearing his words sung aloud for the first time
was like watching his thoughts escape into light.

Then came more songs — Bokra Ahlā and Ana w Setti —
each carrying a different shade of his voice,
each born from moments of exhaustion, patience, and quiet faith.

Because true art, he learned,
does not grow from comfort or calm —
it rises from struggle,
from the tension between fear and hope,
from the need to prove that beauty still exists
even when the world forgets how to see it.

Every lyric he wrote was a small act of defiance,
a way of saying that the heart still has something left to sing.