Anicca: Impermanence
Conditioned things arise and pass without pause. The same "one thing" that comes to the beast in the field comes to the son of man: the breath halts, the body cools, and no rank shifts the hour by a minute. Like a candle that lights the room only by burning itself down to nothing, whatever draws breath is already on its way out.
Anattā: Not-self
No owner sits behind the breathing. "One breath" passes through man and beast alike, drawn in and let go, the same borrowed air that filled another lung yesterday filling yours today. Follow your own breath for one minute and you find no one holding it, only the coming and the going, a life on loan that is always moving on.
Māna: Conceit
The mind's habit of ranking itself above others. "No preeminence above a beast" knocks the footing out from that comparison, the quiet assumption that the sons of men stand a rung higher than the ox and the sparrow. Death keeps no such ladder, taking the herdsman and his herd with the one breath. Lay the measuring stick down and the leveling starts to feel like mercy instead of insult.
Saṃsāra: The wandering on
Beings drift on through one birth after another. Man and beast meet the same "one thing" because the door between them turns both ways: whoever is human now may wear fur or feathers next time around, and the beast in the field may have carried a human face before. Fellow travelers on one road come to the same end because they walk the whole of it together.
Dukkha: Unsatisfactoriness
A hollow grain runs through everything built in time. "Vanity" here is hevel, a breath of vapor, the mist of your own breath on a cold morning that shows for a second and thins away. Pile up herds, wisdom, and long years, and the same vapor lifts off the heap, warm for a moment and holding nothing you can keep. Seeing it clearly is the first honest step, the ground where the Preacher and the Buddha stand together.