Ruins of History

I am the ancient fort, standing strong in storm and sin. I am the intricately carved Palace windows, quelling the dark to let the light in. I am the Empire's soil, fertile to the legacy's growth. I am old citadel aisles, Resonating my integrity's oath I am the the paintings in the chamber, magnificent to the worthy eye. I am the regal central dome, with my head held high. I am the withered fortification - peeling skin, not glaze and glory. But most of all I am the ruins of a history, embodied with a million stories.