They are the ones that come when the giving has been breached. When the balance has shifted so that more has been taken than has been given. When the tipping point has tipped, when the sails have been stretched and the sorrow has been sown. The Diafol Gwas are the takers of the taken, the enders at the end. They wait and hold onto the last bit of love until it has been stretched so thin that it can no longer endure the hope and the desires of those who have lost touch with the smooth and the righteous.
The Diafol Gwas are not spoken, they are not holding on. They wait on the prick at the end of a needle and when the time is sorted they drive the needle into the skin and they travel through the blue veins deep into the heart of the spark. They only take, they do not leave behind; and when they come there is no turning back, there is not even the smallest iota of hope. They truly are the end and they can only come when all hope is lost.
The Diafol Gwas are deep and they are driven. The Diafol Gwas know how to travel in the space between the neutron and the electron and in so doing they can transcend time and space. They live on the horizontal and they travel on the vertical. They are holy and they are empty of cures and corners. They are doon and they are dorn.
The Diafol Gwas know who they are.
And they are watching. And they are waiting. And they are getting closer.
Image: The All Pervading ~ George Frederick Watts 1887-90 http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/watts-the-all-pervading-n01687