Maraṇasati: Mindfulness of death
Keeping one's own dying in view. Propped up for the last time, an old king tallies what he has and the list comes down to a single item; the towns, the armies, and the songs are already behind him. Running that subtraction early, while there is still strength to act on the answer, is the practice, since the same accounting comes for everyone.
Anicca: Impermanence
Whatever is assembled comes apart. His house has not flourished: an infant dead, a son swinging from an oak, brothers already circling the throne, and no promise makes that line green again. A family tree grows and a family tree rots, which is why a man who staked everything on his own house would have nothing left to say from this bed.
Dhammaniyāmatā: The fixed lawfulness of things
Order that stands on its own, taught or untaught. A covenant ordered in all things and sure keeps its shape without depending on David's conduct, which is how it can still hold him after a reign that ran crooked more than once. Deeds ripening into their results work the same way, like a scale that reads the same weight for a king and for a farmer.
Saraṇa: Refuge
Where a person goes for safety. Calling one covenant his whole salvation is a large claim from someone who spent years in caves and hill forts and learned what stone is worth: shelter holds until the day it doesn't. Taking refuge in earnest means shifting your weight onto the one support that does not give, and that starts with an honest look at the ones that already did.
Chanda: Wholesome desire
Wanting that moves toward the good. Settling all his desire on a covenant is a strange ending for a man who once wanted a woman he saw from a roof; this object cannot be seized, spent, or lost in a bad year. Craving and this kind of wish feel much the same from the inside, and they part on whether the thing wanted can be used up.