Taṇhā: Craving
Craving is the thirst that reaches toward what it does not have. A vine planted in good soil beside plenty of water still bends its roots across to another stream, the grass always greener on the far side of the fence. Zedekiah, sworn to one king and quietly sending to Egypt for horses, shows how the leaning itself does the damage long before any army arrives.
Kamma: Deeds ripening into results
Kamma is action bearing its own fruit in time. The fruit that gets cut off grew from the same reaching that turned those roots toward foreign water, so the knife only finishes what the vine started. "Will it prosper?" is a question with its answer already down in the soil, the way a farmer knows in spring what he will not be harvesting in autumn.
Anicca: Impermanence
Impermanence is the passing nature of everything assembled from parts. Fresh springing leaves are where anyone looks for reassurance, and they are the first to go pale once the roots lift, like cut flowers still bright in the vase on the morning they were cut. Judah's court read its new growth as a future; green leaf reports only that water reached it yesterday.
Attāṇo loko: The world has no shelter
Shelter of the kind that holds when results come due is missing from this world. A strong arm can lift a great deal, and many people together can lift more, yet neither sets an uprooted vine back in the ground and makes it drink again, any more than a crowd can talk a man out of dying. Egypt's chariots were the strong arm being counted on, and the counting was the error.
Ucchinnamūla: Cut off at the root
Cutting a thing off at the root, made like a palm stump that will not sprout again, is how the ending of craving is described. Hauling up roots reads as ruin here, and for this vine it is, yet the same motion applied to greed and hate is the one operation that settles the matter for good. A gardener pulling bindweed knows the difference between snapping the stems and getting under the whole root, and only the second one holds.