I am Haroun Ibn Mohammed Ibn Abdullah Ibn Mohammed Ibn Ali Ben Abdullah Ibn Abbas. Once, and never, I was called by my people Al Raschid, First among the faithful. I was Caliph, and mine was the glory and the city of Baghdad, Pearl of cities. It was the perfect city, in the perfect age. Ambassadors came from the ends of the earth to see the miracle that was Baghdad; they returned to their kings, saying, "We have seen the perfect city, walked beneath towers of brass, and there can never be another like Baghdad." And the kings and their lords, with their small feifs and dull stone fortresses, knew in their hearts that no matter their deeds, they would never have so marvelous a kingdom as I.
It was an age of miracles, but I had walked the sands outside of my city, and seen ruined walls and fallen towers, statues whose faces none remember. I feared for my city, that, having reached perfection, and change being unavoidable, Baghdad could only decline and fall to ruin. Fearing change, I summoned his brother, into whose care I gave my city of dreams, that it might forever remain Baghdad, the city of miracles, wonders, and towers of gold.
A city remained, buildings made of brick and crumbling mud, with streets of hard-packed sand along which traders sold what goods could survive the desert. All that remained of the other Baghdad, city of wonders, were dreams of golden towers and magic lamps.
It is only as I, Haroun Al Raschid, feel my body beginning to fail that I have begun to remember the true fate of my city of jewels and Djinn, where all that was, was wonder. All that is left of the Baghdad that was are dreams, but perhaps that is the better, for dreams of an enchanted city shall last forever.
I am Haroun Ibn Mohammed Ibn Abdullah Ibn Mohammed Ibn Ali Ben Abdullah Ibn Abbas. Once, and never, and still, I am called Al Raschid, first among the faithful. I am Caliph, and mine is the glory and the memory of Baghdad, pearl of cities.