Anicca: Impermanence
Everything formed carries this mark. The throne David sat on and the city he walked out of were held the way you hold water in cupped hands, firm-seeming at dawn and gone by the time the climb begins. Kingship was a run of conditions that held together for a season and then came apart on a dirt road.
Kamma-vipāka: The ripening of action
Every action bears fruit in its own season. Uriah was sent to the front years before this climb, and the sword Nathan promised would stay in the house is now marching behind him under his own son's banner. Seeds come up when they come up, and the barefoot man on the ascent planted these himself.
Piyehi vippayogo: Parting from what is dear
Losing the beloved is one of the plain faces of suffering. A city, an ark, a throne, and a son are all behind him on that road, and the son is the one that bends him double. Dear things are held on loan, and this morning the loan gets called in.
Soka: Sorrow
Grief burns inward like this. The weeping repeats with every step, up and weeping, up and weeping, because sorrow does not arrive once and finish, it keeps finding fuel. Nothing is being swallowed here; a king cries in front of his own soldiers, and grief given room is the only kind that ever burns itself out.
Karuṇā: Compassion
The heart moves toward another's pain. Every man on that hill pulls his own cloak over his own head, taking up the king's sign of mourning so that he does not climb alone. Compassion here is worn rather than spoken, and it is the plainest kindness they have to offer.
Saṃvega: The shock that turns the heart
A jolt comes when the ground gives way. Bare feet on stone and a covered face strip a king down to what any person is, and that stripping opens something, since he keeps climbing and bows at the top. A settled life rarely wakes anyone; losing everything before noon can.