Falling down before the healer is the everyday self admitting that wholeness cannot be forced from inside its own fortress.
The ruler carries a father's grief, and that grief is real before any symbolic reading begins. Yet a man of power kneeling in the dust acts out what could be called the worship of the soul, the moment the everyday self runs out of its own resources and turns toward the sense of God. His daughter stands for the hidden opposite side of himself, the inner life that goes silent when role and status swallow everything. A hand laid on a cold body is the plainest picture of the surface mind touching the deep layers below, the joining through which the true center restores what one-sided living has let die.