The poem opens with a quiet refusal: no teaching, no school of thought, no guru can promise that the speaker will arrive at "what I am." Self-knowledge, it suggests, can't be handed over by anyone else. The odd phrasing, "obtain what I am," makes it sound like something you might try to acquire, even though you already are it, which is part of the puzzle.
Then the poem drops from big ideas into a small, ordinary scene: "a table for one" and "my own drink." The speaker seems to be in a restaurant or bar, alone. These two short lines feel plain and a little lonely, but they may also be calm. Being alone with your own company, and your own drink, could be the nearest thing to self-knowledge on offer. The mood is dry, still and reflective, with a hint of wry humor. The poem doesn't resolve whether this solitude is a loss or a kind of answer, and that openness is what lingers.