Anicca: Impermanence
"Received your good things" reads like a receipt, and the goods were handed over inside one lifetime, a span with an end. Purple robes and a daily table get used up the way oil in a lamp burns down. Anything that arrives can be spent, so pleasantness held as property is already on its way out.
Lokadhammā: The world's shifting conditions
Gain and loss, pleasure and pain keep trading places among all beings. Comforted here, anguished there: the two men have swapped seats, one carried from the gate to consolation, one from the feast to thirst. Whoever counts on the good half of the pair to hold still is counting on a wheel to stop.
Pamāda: Heedlessness
Ease dulls attention the way a warm room makes you drowsy. Fine linen and food every day left him no reason to look toward his own gate, where a man lay covered in sores among the dogs. Nothing blocked his sight; comfort had put him to sleep for a whole lifetime.
Dāna: Giving
Wealth kept gets eaten; wealth given becomes a store that travels with the giver. Crumbs from that table would have cost him nothing, and Lazarus lay close enough to name, so close enough to feed. He received his good things and spent them all on himself, which is why he arrived with empty hands.
Kammassakatā: Owning one's deeds
"Son," Abraham calls him, and the word grants him nothing. Beings inherit their own actions, so descent from Abraham carries no further than a name across that gulf. He still talks like an heir, asking for water to be brought and messengers sent, while the only property he brought along is what he did.
Vipāka: The ripening of action
Deeds come due on their own schedule, often long after the doing. While he dined and Lazarus starved, nothing came to the gate to settle the account, and that delay let him take the arrangement for the permanent order of things. "Here" is where the fruit shows: the same lifetime read back to him with its outcome attached.