Hrafnafǫðr

He is the storm, and the eye of the storm,
The howling wind, the tension upbuilt.
His too is the calm that comes after the storm,
Mighty Father of battlefield ravens.

Call to Him now, on the howling wind,
Have no fear for your life, but call to Him now.
Listen for Him in the voice of the wind,
Then follow wherever He leads you.

Fly home to Him, on the wings of the storm,
Alight on a branch where He hangs on the Tree.
Rest there a while, in the eye of the storm,
Then fly forth again, to survey all the Worlds.